


Tomorrow Will Get Better

by the_great_nagi



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mastermind, Amputation, Beating, Broken Bones, Bugs & Insects, Cannibalism, Dacryphilia, Decapitation, Drugs, Emetophilia, Eye Trauma, F/M, Gore, Infection, Needles, Painkillers, Stabbing, Starvation, Torture, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 18:26:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2280096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_great_nagi/pseuds/the_great_nagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today is painful, but tomorrow for sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomorrow Will Get Better

**Author's Note:**

> Sorta prompted by a conversation between me and my friend Peppers.

"Pekoyama Peko is the mastermind."

The phrase was like a bullet to the ear. It was a bullet of truth, and he refused to accept it, even if Hinata was his trusted soul brother.

They had gone over the evidence. Over, and over, and over, and over, because a certain person refused to accept it. It was obvious. His fingernails dug into the railing of the trial podium, his eyes wide and his face red. His palms were sweating, and sticking to the rail with moisture. 

"She isn't."

"Kuzuryuu-san, I know this hurts to accept, but we've gone over the facts at least ten times!"

" _She isn't!_ "

He was sure that they would have said 'What's gotten into you?' or something like that, but they nodded in understanding. They then turned towards each other, seeming apprehensive. He wouldn't budge, not even an inch. How stubborn.

"But...The evidence points to her entirely..."

"Fuck off."

"This is our only option."

"I'm not helpin' you."

"Please cooperate."

"I'm not gonna help you brand Peko as a fucking psychopath."

"I won't-"

The RC student froze, his eyes going wide. Something suddenly poked out against his uniform shirt, a massive spurt of blood following. The reddish fluid splattered against the white button-down, some even getting on his tie. The blade lodged so swiftly in his back that it stabbed all the way through, making a massive tear through his chest.

Going pale, his body collapsed on the ground. A trail of blood dragged across the pristine floor. 

The room broke out into panic, but he merely tuned it out. Fuck him. He tried to frame Peko...He couldn't even pretend this didn't hurt, honestly. Hinata was his friend. Hinata was his best friend and now he was fucking dead. Though he feigned indifference, this hurt more than anything.

The sound of something diving through wind came into his hearing. When the mechanic's head was split open, he felt a twist in his chest. When the princess was decapitated, a sphere seemed to lodge in his throat. When the gymnast was sliced in half, his face was soaking wet. Her guts were spilled across the tile flooring, joining the ugly image of corpses covering the floor.

Though his sight was blurred, he still made a run for it. He didn't want to be stabbed or impaled or anything like that. Though, since he couldn't leave, he'd be running in circles forever. 

He didn't want this. He hated how this was the way it had to be. He knew, soon enough he'd grow exhausted, or trip over one of the festering corpses that littered the floor, or his legs would give out. He had no way to eat, drink, sleep, or really do anything besides run for his life in an endless loop. Maybe it would be better to just die.

So he stopped running. When he stopped running, all he felt was a sharp sting in the back of his neck.

He pulled the weapon out, and in his last moments of light, he muttered to the air.

"A tranquilizer dart."

At least he wasn't dead.

\--

When he woke up, he was alone.

It was dark. It was cold. It was wet.

When he came to his senses, he realized one thing. He was strapped down to a wooden chair with tough, metal straps. On on each wrist and ankle, binding him to the legs and arms of the chair. A fifth one held him at the neck, not even allowing him to lower his head all the way.

Another thing he noticed was the little roll of gauze jammed into his mouth. At first he assumed he just felt weird from the bad sleep, but nope. He couldn't close his mouth all the way, and chewing on it just got string between his teeth.

Whoever the mastermind was, they sure had him good. He wouldn't be moving for a good long time.

"Y' goh' me." He spoke around the roll of linen, to no one in particular. "Now leh'e go." He attempted to spit out the gauze. It stayed in place, so he gave up. No point in warring with someone who made 16 high school students murder each other. 

It felt like a long time.

He sat for what his internal clock told him was at least an hour. He was hungry, and tired, and kinda needed the bathroom, and a lot of other things. Honestly, these weren't even things he complained about when he was a child. He instead occupied himself with his body. The way his feet twitched, the way his fingers flicked, the way his chest rose and fell with every little breath. 

He'd never been so self-aware in his entire life. It was slightly surreal. His entire body was simply the most interesting thing. Sure, he noted other things, like that the floor felt slightly moist, and the room was reeking of something foul. But those were minor things.

After a boring extended amount of time, he heard a bit of shuffling around him.

"H'llo?" He tried to turn around, but the multitude of straps holding him down restricted his movement and merely made it painful. "Ish shome'un 'ere?"

"Aaah, bocchan..."

He froze. Right then and there. It was like his heart stopped. 

"How long have you been up?"

"N-no." That was all he could say. No. No, this wasn't possible. It was a lie. It was an elaborate prank. "No..."

"You seem surprised. Would anyone else have let you live? Don't you see I care about you?"

He gasped, as she lightly tapped her fingers on his head. She rubbed slow circles in his back, and idly slid her fingers along his chin. "Do you want to speak? I'm sorry, but with that in your mouth, you sounded like a little kid, and I thought it was cute..."

She shoved her fingers in his mouth. He contemplated biting, but she was far ahead of him. Rather than merely pulling out the gauze, she _pushed it back._

All the way back. Too far back.

His throat seemed to contract and twist. It was as if his entire body was turning into a caterpillar. He couldn't see anything in the darkness, he was relying on everything else. The gauze came flowing out in a pungent pile of half-digested sweets. The linen roll landed with a small 'plop' in the revolting puddle. He hacked up even more little bits of god knows what.

That hand was massaging into his back. That was her hand. She was doing this to him.

He hyperventilated and coughed for a couple minutes. She was entirely silent, kneading her fingers into his skin and spine. It was just like when they were kids, and he'd catch the flu and vomit over and over and over and over...

"What the fuck." That was all he could even say. "What...what the fuck."

"Oh, you seem surprised. Everyone was telling you...so stubborn. I'm glad you stood for me until the end, bocchan." She kissed him on the cheek, licking up some of the leftover vomit and savoring its acrid taste. "You're so kind, that I just couldn't let you keep associating with those idiots!"

"What...You're the...What the fuck? _What the fuck?!_ "

She sighed, and he could hear her walking away. Then, the lights came on.

The room was illuminated by many light bulbs, and covered wall to wall in all sorts of sharp objects. On the floor, she had been using the corpses of his goddamn dead friends to hold swords, knives, pins, and many other sharp things. If he hadn't emptied his stomach already, he'd certainly be doing so now.

"S-s-shut them back off!"

"What? Does my collection bother you more than sensory deprivation? Don't you like when it's light enough? I want to be able to see your face..." She lightly pinched his cheek. "You look so cute when you're scared."

"What do you want....W-why would you even do this? Is this some kind of gross joke? D-did someone put you up to this?!"

"I wanted to be with you..." She pulled a knife out of Sonia's chest, which would never rise or fall again. He didn't even want to think about it. In the other hand, which she hadn't been using, was a doctor's needle filled with an unidentifiable liquid. "I didn't want anyone to get in my way. When I was caught, I decided it would be good to kill all those others..."

She began prodding at his arm, trying to find the right vein. "I'll make sure you never leave me again." The needle dove in, and she slammed her thumb down on the plunger. He could feel it, and then he couldn't. He couldn't feel a thing.

"It's a painkiller. You'll need it."

"P-painkiller?"

This was too fucking weird.

"If you try anything, next time I won't be so kind."

She twisted the needle out, and he restated and remembered that he couldn't feel jack shit. His fingertips had gone numb, wholly and entirely. All he had was his wits, and thoughts, and sight, but he couldn't feel a thing.

He barely even felt his heart skip a beat when she was prodding at just below his knee with a butcher knife. 

"Shit-! P-p-put that thing away!"

"...Why?" She cocked her head slightly. "You're not going to be able to feel it. These are worthless appendages, anyway."

"B-buh..." He licked his lips a little. Even his mouth was numb. "I need tho...se..."

"Aah, bocchan, you're just adorable when you're afraid...I can't stand the mere idea of you being close to anyone else! So that's why..." She jammed the knife into the flesh under his kneecap. He gasped, and he heaved and shuddered and there was blood spurting out but _he couldn't feel it, oh god, he couldn't fucking feel it!_ "I'll cut off your legs so you can't walk away. I'll cut off your hands so you can't touch anyone else..."

She buried the knife in his leg. "Mm, this won't do. I need a more durable cutting weapon to saw through the bone..." Walking back to her human knife blocks, and from an open half of Owari, she pulled out a chainsaw. "This should work just fine, right?" 

The blade made a rumbling noise, like a motorcycle. Either that, or his senses were dulled by fear alone. The blade dug into his knee, a mere sting when fighting against his drugged-up nerves. It was just making a clean cut through bone and sinew and nerves and he couldn't feel it. It was like a horror movie, and he was the one who died last at the hands of a manic serial killer...

He barely even noticed both of his lower legs detaching from his knees and hanging low in the metal ankle bindings. The SHSL Gangster would never walk again.

"D-don't do this." He breathed out the phrase in a state of mindless terror. "Please."

"It's too late to change my mind."

She pressed against his elbow flesh a little, wedging the saw between the bend of his arm. It cut through flesh and bone with no trouble at all, and he grabbed at the air with his last moments. His right hand was no longer connected to his body.

"Oh my god," He was hyperventilating. He was fucking hyperventilating. "O-oh my fucking god." He couldn't feel it, maybe this was some fucked-up dream but Peko still just chopped his arm off, and he wanted to die. His other forearm was swiftly removed.

He couldn't walk. He couldn't hold anything. He felt like a goddamn caterpillar, or a dog, or something else. 

"...Then I'll carve my name into your chest, so everyone knows who you belong to."

Tossing the saw away, she took the knife once more. His tattered jacket and tie were thrown to the side, and she unbuttoned his shirt. His skin was pale, soft, and completely unblemished. She shoved the knife in as deep as possible, beginning to shoddily spell her name on his bared chest. 

He still couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel when Peko Pekoyama branded him as her own.

\--

His life as her little dog became surprisingly mundane after that.

So mundane he might even call it boring. It was the same routine. Wake up, lay around, eat, use the bathroom, snuggle with Master, get praised by Master, do some other stuff with Master, eat, bathroom, sleep, repeat.

To be fair, he barely ate anyway. Somehow, over the month, his chest had practically become concave. A massive valley dipped below his ribcage, which was visible through a tight sheet of flesh. He never bathed through this time, so he got surprisingly dirty. The only wash he got was when she'd take a wet towel and pat off his dirt-caked body. It got even harder to clean out, since a ton of hair developed on his body, and he couldn't really shave without any fingers. If it was any consolation, he at least had underwear on most of the time, so his thighs weren't as revolting as they could be.

Of course, this didn't stop him from getting in the occasional trouble. He taught himself how to crawl on his shoddily-bandaged stubs like, well, a dog. A dog with no hands or feet, but a dog nonetheless.

His worst mistake was staying around the corpses. He hated the fact that Hinata Hajime was festering and rotting right in front of him. For fuck's sake, he actually felt comfortable enough to call Hinata his friend. But here he was, slowly disappearing into the earth, like garbage in a landfill. It made him ungodly depressed, but she didn't really seem to care all that much. If he was giving attention to anyone but her, she'd blow a damn gasket.

"What're you doing?"

"Nothing." He'd respond nonchalantly, staring at his dead friend's rotting eyes.

"I was thinking of throwing those out tomorrow."

"D-don't!"

"Why does it matter to you so much?" She held up the dead corpse of Sonia Nevermind by the collar, which was being taken over by insects. "They're dead, anyway. Rotting. They're nothing more than maggot food, and I can't stand having bugs inside."

"...Because they were..."

"Your friends? Are you trying to say there's anyone you could ever possibly need besides me?"

He had no choice but to nod. When he nodded, in a split second, he found he was lying on his back, with her foot on his chest.

" _You don't. You never will._ "

She tugged his eye patch off, his injured eye scarring and scabbing like a cut. His entire body froze as she sat down on top of him. In his lower vision, he could see a metal bat in her right hand. Her left was poking at his injured eye, and he was sad to say, there were no painkillers this time.

His eyelids had practically become crusted together with blood, and she peeled them apart. His eye was wrecked, practically cut in half, but still connected to his face and nerves. This was painful, and she hadn't even done anything yet! 

"...I think you need a punishment, bocchan. I feel like your mother." With that, she shoved her fingers...

In. His. Eye. Socket.

He couldn't contain his screams. His childhood friend was wiggling her fingers between his halved eye, and the pain was indescribable, unbearable, he thought he was going to die. No, he WAS going to die. His body shuddered and twitched, which she responded to by nonchalantly pushing her heel against his chin.

The digits twisted between his halved eyeball, turning the flaps of useless jelly like a washing machine. Her nails dug into the socket, scratching at the dark inside and digging up flesh. He was crying. It was really cute, to her, that someone so tough could cry right in front of her. The tears streamed down his face like raindrops, and his face was probably redder than the blood spurting out of it.

She dug out the useless eye, halved like a grape by her own hand many weeks ago. The little tail still held it in his face, which she tore out in a torrent of blood and gore. It dangled between her fingers.

"Maybe I should make it into a pendant to remind you..." She shrugged. "But I'd rather devour you." The pain slowly subsided, but when she bit down on his blinded eye with a soft squishing noise, he felt ill all over again. It came spurting out of her mouth, and if he were any stupider, he'd just assume it was viscous saliva. 

Her weight shifted and disappeared, replaced with the metal bat on his bloody, soaking wet face. 

"Who do you love more than anyone?" Her tone was harsh, but he remained silent, other than his whimpers and sobs. She held the end of the bat against his semi-exposed ribcage. "Answer me. Please."

"D...Don't touch me..."

"Completely wrong."

The cold, metal tip rose away from his heaving chest. He honestly should have expected this, but he didn't anticipate that she would get really, really angry. He knew it was coming, and he shut his eyes for the impact. She was going to kill him, and he knew.

He would have preferred if she did.

Instead, she struck his chest hard. He spat up a wad of what he could only assume was yesterday's mass-block of konnyaku, as the metal made a loud crack against the bone. Even through the skin, he knew. His ribs had gotten bent, and broken. A massive bruise drew over his chest. His eyes went wide at the jagged mess of his right side, now swollen and horribly painful. It was almost as disgusting as his dirty, sobbing, ugly dog face.

She moved the bat away, gently rubbing his cheek.

"Who do you love more than anyone, bocchan?"

His entire body was a shivering wreck, and everything inside of him fucking hurt. His breath was heavy, and hot, and he really wished she had killed him right then and there. But, to save himself, he grinned. He grinned and he looked fucking pathetic, with his face red and burning hot, and his cheeks practically smelling of salt.

"...You...of course..."

He never saw Hinata again after that.

\--

It was inevitable that he would die.

The conditions were trash, unsurprisingly. She didn't really care about his condition, as long as he "loved" her without any boundaries. His empty eye hole got infected, and the two lids swelled shut. Even the slightest bit of pressure would make him yell out in pain.

She didn't really make any attempt to fix it. She insisted it made him look adorable, but then again, he knew she was some kind of sadist. So all the treatment he got was that she would wash up his face every so often.

Malnutrition caught up with him, and he couldn't even keep much of anything down without vomiting it back up. His entire body was constantly cold and pale, and he had issues sleeping all the time. Even if she took him into her actual bed, which was warm and soft, he was always up and semi-alert. His days became less and less active, and even being carried around by her was painful.

She refused to put him out of his misery, so he was slowly dying at the hands of his own childhood friend.

On his last day of living, his face had become utterly concave. What once was his perky "baby-face" developed into a corpselike visage with no fat under the cheeks. His blind eye had become utterly grotesque, thus, she decided to slap a bandage over it. His skin had gotten pale, and his eyes developed dark, dark circles. He was more like a pile of bones with no hands or feet than a human being.

She was away, doing something, he supposed. By the time she got back, he assumed, he'd be asleep. Or maybe he'd be vomiting up another attempt at choking down some food. It didn't really matter what he'd be doing, because even he knew he was almost at the end of his line.

He didn't move much, or rather, he couldn't. At this point, even holding himself up was a challenge. Instead he spent the hours laying on the ground and staring at the ceiling. He stared, and stared, not even caring for much entertainment.

He had forgotten Hinata's face over the weeks. He tried to remember, but it was blurry, like a wrong answer that he couldn't erase all the way. Everyone he'd ever known just became that wrong answer, but it was an answer he couldn't remember to a question he didn't want to hear. In a way, she had done exactly what she wanted. The tool who had been by his side was all he could remember.

In the end, it was all he did remember. When she returned from her business, she found her bocchan dead on the floor.

Even in death, he was cute.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this sucks pls throw me in the trash


End file.
